


Mask of Darkness

by Night_Panther_13



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Father Figures, Pre-Barricade, Sad Ending, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 10:59:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14235819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Night_Panther_13/pseuds/Night_Panther_13
Summary: Okay so I really love this little drabble because of how much I focused on the book Les miserables and it's basic accuracy. (I read an awful fanfic about the patron minette and thoguht hey I want to do a better story with acutual plot.) It makes me so sad and has been a strong headcanon of mine for forever. It fits canon and is a bit dark and mysterious and I wouldn't have it any other way. Claquesous is the main character! Not Valjean, Javert, Cosette, Enjolras, or even Eponine. NO Claquesous because his character scared me a lot before I considered this idea (which fits into the canon without contradiction {besides the whole Montparnasse liking Enjolras, that was my own little fantasy}) Enjoy!





	Mask of Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is based heavily on the book, so it has characters interacting like they do in the book, i.e. Montparnasse is not abusive or is mean to her (Is a total fashionista/dandy), acurate descriptions of patron-minette (Thenaardier is in no way the leader), and Eponine is in no way innocent. Unpopular opinion I know but it is fact. She is described to have a rapsy voice, and the way she acts is detatched (doesn't blink an eye at murder or theft as she does some of it) and only loves the idea of Marius because he was kind, innocent, pretty, and she wants someone to love her as he does Cosette. SORRY 'BOUT THE RANT. 
> 
> I love Eponine's musical/movie character but I feel the book is a literary giant for a reason and all parts should have some spotlight on it and I haven't seen an accurate book display of this side. Love you guys :3 <3

In the dark you are safe. You can hide your mistakes and poor choices. It is comforting and natural. The light exposes, the light accuses. Darkness protects all that come to it for shelter. That is why I hide in the dark. I have done things I regret and I cannot bare to view the light of those situations. I know I have done wrong and caused suffering but everybody has to live. I provide the gendarmes with something to catch and I provide myself with a food. Yet I know it is wrong and source for shame. I hide my face in masks and my voice with silence. They call me the ventriloquist and so it might be. I am the king of the unknown France the darkest crime ridden place the bourgeois choose to ignore and rightfully so. A king of fools is one thing. The ruler of murderers and thieves is the most dangerous of his subjects.  
I am not alone in this kingdom of mine. An oligarchy of criminals deciding what is justice is easier to maintain than a dictatorship. I feel the most unique of the other three would be Montparnasse. The child of 18 already had a wake of blood on his hands. He was ruthless yet not cold or distant. The girls found him irresistibly charming, yet the experienced in our line of business knew to avoid him at all costs. He was a dandy. He was a trickster. He was a talented child turned bad. Despite my better judgement I liked him. He was daring, confident, and cunning. I remained distant to him. I knew better.  
The other to Patron-Minette leaders or heads are Gueulemer and Babet. They are opposites on everything but morals. And their morals are skewed. Gueulemer is a large fellow over six and as tough as steel. He is rumoured to have killed a cheat with a single glance, but I knew better. It was a club that killed the man. He was made to be a strong worker, but that is not his style. He is nonchalant and lazy. He is slow mental and physical. Had we the need to flee Paris he would say only after I’ve had a couple rounds. He is a gift and burden. Babet his opposing is small and thin. He’s quick, keen, and precise. Some call him a fool. They don’t know his knowledge is purely based on his work. Only a fool would mistake this demon for an single imp.   
Others joined this little gang and got their share of the crop. Brujon one of these odd pieces, smart, large, and evil. Monsieur Thenardier is the most confusing of these. He has the oddest way of making jokes about things and the next moment scarily grave and revenge bent. The most important factor of Monsieur Thenardier is his family. Two young girls and three little boys. Gavroche was the eldest boy and hung about Montparnasse and kept a loose tie to the family that abandoned him. His two younger brothers had annoyed Madame Thenardier and were sold to Madame Magnon whose sons had died. The wolf like Madame Thenardier had only ever cared for her two girls, Eponine and Azelma. Azelma was thin yet pretty and was harsh like her mother. She was still quite girlish and enjoyed taking the fine things in life, a gold bracelet, a pair of earrings, or silk gloves. Whatever suited her best. Eponine was the eldest. She had the hips of her mother but hunger made her small. She wasn’t as pretty as her sister yet was less homely than her mother. She knew things of the street and played out dirty little tricks. She sought out young men for pleasure and was bored with her life. Were anyone to threaten her she would sigh and shrug. She lived for the hunt and fantasies controlled her wants. She wasn’t the best morally but she was aware of the destruction she did reap.   
I was most foolish when meeting Eponine. At first glance I knew to be wary. After a moment or two I knew my heart had made a fatal mistake. She was the child I never had, and never should have. She was a dull light, and I was the night. No child of light should be raised in darkness. Her father hated her and her mother could no longer pamper her living doll. I taught her everything I found important. She was one of the few I spoke to. I told how to disappear, how to guard herself, how to speak properly without jargon or argot, and live life truly without living in fear. I knew she’d be the death of me the day I removed my mask.   
“Monsieur Claquesous why do you wear a mask?” She asked in her little raspy voice.  
“To hide my identity,” I said in the hollow way accustomed to me.   
“Oh,” She sounded disappointed as if she wanted to find a story of me being mauled by a wild dog or something of the sort.   
“I hide from the pain that comes with my identity,” I whispered. She heard.  
“Who are you then?” She asked growing excited. She wheezed a bit as she spoke.   
“Ah I can’t say my name,” I chuckled.   
“Then show me,” She smiled. I looked behind my shoulder. Her birth father was talking on about a made up story having fooled Brujon. I took her twelve year old hand and rushed quickly through the dark alley behind them. She stumbled along after me unsure of herself. I stopped abruptly and felt the cold stone walls. I latched my fingers into a small alcove and climbed up onto the beginning of a wood awning. She followed suite and sat cross legged in front of my hunched over form. Her big dust colored eyes stared at my black and white mask. I slowly and deliberately untied the string. I held it there a moment longer. I could swat her away or laugh and avoid my demise. I could say it was simply a tease. I don’t know. I could have stopped it. I let the mask fall. I caught it and turned my face up towards her. She didn't gasp. Her lungs were already to full of barroom smoke, dust, and probably some sort of long term pneumonia that she couldn’t waste a dramatic breath. My pale blue eyes met her brown ones. She examined every inch of my face.   
“You aren’t ugly,” She said after a moment. “Why do you hide your face?”  
“I told you alre-” I started.  
“You had a wife,” She said suddenly. “Didn’t you?”  
“Yes,” I stuttered. “She died. She was an honest person, a good one. She went broke and deteriorated as the filthy rich men took advantage of our situation. She died of sickness. After that I knew those bastards weren’t going to kill me.” She nodded her head.  
“Vive la revolution,” She whispered. I place the mask back over my face.  
“No,” I corrected. “Vive nous. Vive la Patron-Minette.” She smiled her lopsided smile and hopped down back into the alley disappearing. I smiled a little.   
I saw another deadly thing spiral towards my Eponine when she was about fifteen. Montparnasse had his eyes on her. I noticed him stop flirting with other girl and devoted his attention to her. He became obsessed with maintaining neat clothing and higher fashion. He wanted to impress the girl. I couldn’t blame him for trying. Yet I hardly cared for his dangerous record adding to hers. They were the closest friends and did everything together. Collecting their food, visiting Gavroche, teasing Azelma, and simply talking. They called each other love and darling and other sorts of pet names. As a dandy fellow I expected his to be a bit of a queer and I was right. As time carried on I found out through Eponine’s gossip that he at one point a while ago fancied himself the leader of the rebels down at the Musain. I listened closely one day in the shadows of the Thenardiers’ room of them talking downstairs. I zoned out Monsieur Thenardier next to me. Through a vent I heard them speak.  
“He’s small, gentle, and yet a powerful fellow,” Montparnasse puffed. “Why shouldn’t I like him? Well don’t just laugh. What do you want in a man?” I knew she was blushing.  
“Why should you care about a girl’s opinion?” She asked.  
“Well I told you that I am in love with a certain girl,” He said quietly. “I would like to know.”  
“Well he should be well dressed,” She started. “Smart, charming, handsome, and gentle to the one he loves.” I could see Montparnasse now growing excited as he matched her list.  
“Do you fancy anyone Eponine?” He asked happily.  
“Yes,” She gruffly squeaked. “Monsieur Marius Pontmercy.” I nearly laughed. The poor boy made an excuse to leave her and think about what she said. Ah my poor Eponine would never have a chance with the fumbling fool next door. The boy was a pretty sight but not much else. The real issue was that night. Our band had made our separate ways to a little house. Thenardier was certain about this robbery. Azelma had also shown some zeal about it. Rubbish stuff that vengeance is. As we approached the house a figure was at the gate. Eponine.  
“Who is this creature?” Thenardier growled.  
“Your daughter.”  
“What are you doing here? What do you want from us? Are y-” Thenardier asked quickly. She replied and kissed her birth father and they bickered a bit.   
“Let’s hurry!” said Gueulemer, “the coqueurs may come along.”  
“Tis not the first of the new year, to hug Papa and Mama dear.” I spoke. Eponine turned to the empty sound of my voice speaking quietly through the muttering.   
“Why there is Monsieur Brujon. Good evening, Monsieur Babet. Good evening Monsieur Claquesous,” She said. She took a faint breath after my name as if remembering all I’ve done for her well being. “Don’t you recognize me Monsieur Gueulermer? How goes it, Montparnasse?” Her father argued more with her. Begging her to leave as there was already too many people which would cause suspicion. She was indifferent and unafraid. That was normal but usually she was indifferent towards having to beat a man or steal from a rich child. She was protective of this house. She lied about the people living there and she exclaimed that she would scream. We gathered in a group to discuss.   
“What will we do about her?” Gueulemer asked.  
“Frighten her?” Montparnasse asked showing his blade.  
“No,” Brujon said. “She will scream.”  
“A squawking woman is a bad omen,” Babet decided. “Let’s leave.” We nodded and took off into the night. She followed us at a distance until we dispersed. I stayed back in the shadows as usual. After a while she got bored looked over her shoulder and turned to leave.  
“Why did you do that?” I asked unmoving.  
“Marius loves her,” She said. “Tomorrow they are leaving. He would be heartbroken if my own father was the cause of them leaving earlier.” I nodded and took he hand, walking her home.  
That love of hers was trouble. She had run off to the students barricade to die with him. She was going to die? She was going to die. My Eponine was going off... to die. I ran as fast as I could. I tore off my mask and dressed in revolutionary type clothes. I lived disguised nearly my whole life and now my final costume shall be my true face. I sprinted into the forming barricade. I spun about looking for Eponine. She was helping out at one side. I combed my fingers through my hair nervously heading towards her. She turned looked at me briefly and turned back to her work. She quickly spun around again.  
“Claquesous?” She asked. “Where is your mask? Why are you here?”  
“I should ask the same of you,” I stuttered. “Dressed like a boy ready to risk your life for a cause you don’t believe in.” She innocently looked at me.  
“You have come as well,” She smiled sadly. “You will die too.”  
“Leave,” I begged. “Save yourself.” She only shook her head.  
“I have led him here and I want to die with him,” She explained. “I want to be with my true love before that, for even a moment.”  
“Then let me spare you a few more minutes with him,” I said.  
“Whatever you want,” She sighed sadly. It pained me. To see her abandon Azelma and Montparnasse. To willingly throw herself away. To not care that it hurt me so. Had she really never noticed how I loved her like a child I always wanted? I looked into her eyes and saw that she did love me. She was happy I would be with her in her final expedition. I vowed to do my best to bring her home.   
The barricade arose quickly. Furniture, stones, wagons, mattresses, and driftwood secured the foundation and became the mountain before us. It was a sight indeed. The men gathered round looking at it with pride.  
“There is a vantage point up there in that building,” I mentioned to another man. “Less will die if we secure that spot.”  
“Yes,” He agreed. “But the people will not let us in.”  
“Then we shall break down the door,” I didn’t wait for his reply. I grabbed a gun and pounded the butt of it on the sturdy door. It was solid and didn’t budge. I smashed and banged on the door until the porter called through the door.  
“What is it monsieur?” He asked.   
“Let us in,” I demanded.   
“I cannot sir,” he replied.   
“You can’t?” I asked.  
“No I cannot,” He answered. I raised the loaded gun to his head through the grate window in the wood. The inside of the house was shadowed. He might not see a thing.  
“You say you no?” I asked again grimly.  
“Monsieur I say no-” he was cut short. My bullet landed firmly and silenced him. The shot was loud and heard throughout the barricade. The porter fell down dead. I had saved Eponine, or at least spared her a few hours. This advantage was good. I breathed a sigh of relief.  
“On your knees!” A voice commanded. I expected a crowd of men forcing me down pushing my shoulders into the paving stone demanding a reason. Instead I found one hand. It was soft and longer fingered pressing down on my shoulder. I turned to see the blonde leader glaring at me. His face was white with anger and his eyes stony. A pistol was at his belt.  
“On your knees,” He repeated again with such a tone it can be compared to a greek god or the angel Michael in battle against the devil himself. A force stronger than man had this smaller man bend me, a giant. I folded and was on my knees in the dusty street.  
“You have a minute to collect your thoughts or pray,” This angel of death sternly told. He retrieved his pocket watch and his eyes never once left the ticking hand.   
“Pardon!” I begged. I continued in a deranged mumble. “Oh my Eponine how I wish I could do more. I wish I had taken you away from the streets and from Paris. How I wish I had never done what I have done. I would give the world to have you safe away in the country with the boy you love and with all the things you adore. I pray to God that my repentance isn’t to late. That I may join you in your death. Is there no mercy. Has this demon been sent to kill me before I witness her slaughter?” I looked with pained eyes for her. She held her face in terror. I met her gaze, unmasked, unafraid. I knew she was the only one who heard me. Who could heard every word of my raspy, quiet voice. “My daughter, I love you.”  
“The time is up,” Enjolras announced. I only saw Eponine. In single moment he lowered his pistol to my temples, I raised my eyes to the sky, he pulled the trigg---


End file.
